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At 4/27/14 10:33 AM, xXxAmorexXx wrote: Chapter 2 – Awake

"There we go," he whispered. He moved me so that he was carrying me bridal style and began to walk through the house with me still in his arms. I remained silent for a while and looked at my hands in my lap, but my curiosity quickly got the best of me.

"Where are you taking me?" I whispered, scared that he might lash out at me if I did anything wrong, even breathing too loudly. Luckily, he didn't freak out at me for asking a question.

"The kitchen. I'm assuming you're hungry?" he said with normal volume. I opened my mouth to reply when my stomach loudly growled, answering for me. I felt the arms surrounding me shake as the man behind me chuckled lowly. A furious blush bloomed on my cheeks and I hid my face in my hands in an attempt to conceal my embarrassment.

"Sorry," I whispered to him.

"No need to apologize for something you can't control," he said lightheartedly. My head swam with confusion at his response. I had been taught after that devastating night that haunted my dreams to be seen and not heard, left in the corner and only responding when told. Whenever my stomach growled when I lived there, I would be severely punished. My train of thought came to an end when we suddenly stopped. I looked up from my hands and glanced around my new surroundings.

The kitchen was enormous.

It was at least the size of an average two-car garage. Along the far, left, and right walls were black counters with sparkling white marble countertops. In the middle of the kitchen was a large island in the same black and white design. There were also cabinets above all the counters (besides the island) that were also black. On the right side of the room, the cabinets and counters ended about two-thirds of the way down the wall. Instead of cabinetry and counter space, there was a set of white double doors. The appliances were spread out all over, and there were a ton of them! Two double-door refrigerators were on the left. Two stacked ovens (a total of four ovens) were to the right of the fridges, along with a regular oven and stovetop to the right of those. On the right side of the room, there was a huge sink, and a dishwasher to the left of it. On the far side of the room was where all the small appliances seemed to be. Two microwaves, a blender, three coffee pots, a toaster and a toaster oven along with some other strange appliances I had never seen before were plugged into the wall and ready to be used. All of the large appliances were black, while all the small ones were white. On the island-which was probably about 4' x 4'-was a small flower vase with yellow carnations and two white knife holders. The light wood floor looked nice against all the black cabinetry, and the few walls that could be seen were a sage green.

The entire kitchen was spotless. I couldn't find a speck of dirt or dust anywhere. But the cleanliness wasn't what freaked me out. It was the pure size and amount of everything. How big was this man's family? Or, even worse, was this the pack house?

If I were in the pack house, things could go very wrong, very quickly.

I was jolted back into the present when I felt the strange wolf set me down on the island, facing the set of fridges. He then turned around and dug inside the fridge on the right side, eventually emerging with sandwich fixings. He set the ingredients on the counter beside me before turning around again and going through one of the cabinets to grab two plates. After setting them down next to the ingredients, he pulled out two glasses from another cabinet and set them beside the fridge on the left. He opened the fridge and pulled out a gallon of milk, filled the glasses, and returned the milk to the fridge. He then came back to me after pulling a table knife out of a drawer and began to fix our sandwiches.

The entire time he was doing this, the room was silent. I had only watched him, thinking of how to broach a conversation with him. After thinking about it for awhile, I accidentally blurted out one of my more random thoughts.

"What's your name anyways? Because I can't just keep calling you 'that man' in my head," I said. Immediately, a blush formed on my cheeks and I dropped my head. I heard him chuckle a little before finally answering me.

"I'm Alexander, but most people call me Alex."

I chewed on my bottom lip, thinking about whether or not I should reply. I didn't want to get too close to anyone. I sighed and made up my mind.

"I'm Adrian."

Chapter 2 – Awake

The pack house was completely empty. With such a large pack, this was an anomaly. There was always at least one person inside. The emptiness scared me. I was used to constantly being around others. Not having someone there to tease me, or take care of me, or even just to ignore my randomness was scary. Especially to an eight-year-old.

I padded down the desolate hallway on bare feet, the hardwood floors sending a chill through me. With all the lights off, the passage was bleak and dark, hiding monsters that my young brain conjured up from fairy-tales and nightmares. I stopped at one of the windows to my left for a moment, looking up and out at the night sky. The stars were easy to see since the large house was placed far away from human civilization. However, the open windows did nothing to light the house inside since it was a new moon, the stars all alone in the sky. Just like I was in my childhood home.

I continued walking down the hall, scared and looking for my parents. They should be home. They should be here. Where were they?

“Mommy?” I called out. “Daddy?”

No response.

Suddenly, I heard a loud cry from the last door on the right. My heart stuttered for a moment before I ran as fast as my legs could carry me down that hall. “Mommy!” I yelled out, fearing the worst.
I reached the door and paused, listening to what was happening inside. I heard constant whimpers and whines, scaring me even more. “Mommy?”

I slowly reached out and grabbed the doorknob with a trembling hand. “Daddy?”

Turning the knob, I faced what would soon become the nightmares that would plague me in the years to come.

I shot up in bed, shaking, trembling, and sweating. I was gasping for breath, and my hand quickly found my chest, grasping at my heart. Finally, after several deep breaths, I was calm and fell back onto the bed. My head was resting on an incredibly soft pillow, and warm blankets were lying on my legs. Feeling a cold shiver shoot through me, I grabbed the edge of the blankets and pulled them up to my neck. I then turned onto my side and snuggled down into the comfortable bed, closing my eyes and letting out a sigh of relaxation. A couple of moments passed before my eyes shot wide open again as I came to realize something.

I live in the woods. I haven’t been in a house in ten years. I don’t own a bed.

I shot up in the bed again as panic rocketed through my system. I turned my body so my feet were hanging off the right edge of the bed and ripped the blankets off as I did so. The bed was incredibly tall, so my feet just barely touched the floor when I was sitting on the edge of it. Then again, it could’ve had something to do with my vertical disability, as I was relatively certain that a person of normal height would’ve been able to easily relax their feet on the floor. At 5’ 2”, it was ridiculous how small I was, especially for a twenty year old. But I digress.

I dropped to the floor and quickly stood up to take in my surroundings. I was in what I assumed was a cookie cutter bedroom. The queen-size bed I had been lying in was up to my waist, with a dark wood as the frame and headboard and black sheets. It was pushed up against a wall and centered in the medium sized room. The comforter and regular pillows were dark, navy blue. There were black throw pillows on the ground, which I assumed I had thrown off the bed in my sleep. On either side of the bed was a window with thick, navy blue curtains that were open, letting in the sunlight. Outside was nothing recognizable; all I could see were trees all around. Looking around the room some more, I saw a dresser to the left, nightstands on either side of the bed, and a bookshelf to the right that all were made out of the same wood as the headboard and bed frame. None had any personal items like photos and figures, only regular things like movies, books, and CDs that didn’t give much away as to the room owner’s personality. None of the items that were there even looked used: there was a fine layer of dust on all of the surfaces. The walls were a sky blue with black framework, and the floor was pure white carpeting.

I looked down at myself and realized that I was wearing a long sleeve, plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants with loose fitting boxers beneath them. This wouldn't have bothered me if I didn't remember that the last time I was awake, I was naked, having shredded my only clothes long ago. Somebody must have dressed me while I was unconscious, and that's what scared me the most.

There were also three doors in the room, all painted black. One was immediately to the right of the dresser, one was to the left of the bookshelf, and one was in front of the bed. I assumed they led to a closet, bathroom, and the rest of the house respectively.

Answering my suspicions, the door in front of the bed opened and a large man stood in the doorway. The first thought in my mind was that he was huge. He had to be about a foot taller than me and was quite muscular. Not the “ew, he should cut down on those steroids” type of muscles, but just enough so that you could tell it wasn’t effortless. He had a strong jaw, a straight nose, and an oval shaped face. He had skinny lips and thin eyes, yet they seemed to work for him. He was wearing a plain white tank top and dark blue jeans with a plain black belt. Thank goodness; he wasn’t one of those idiots who sagged their pants. His hair was long, down past his ears, and a deep brown. His eyes were a startling green, and I was lost in them for a moment. It was only when he spoke that I snapped out of it.

“Hey, you’re finally up,” he said while taking a step towards me. I had no time to revel in his deep, rich voice as my thoughts again turned to panic and I stepped backwards away from him and towards the bed.

“St- Stay away from me,” I stuttered out, mentally flinching at the obvious weakness that could be heard in my voice.

“Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you,” he slowly said, putting up one hand in a surrendering gesture and the other reaching out to grab me. Terror rushed through me at the thought that a large male would be touching me and old memories came to the forefront of my mind. My reaction was immediate and instinctive.

“Don’t touch me!” I screamed before ducking under his arm and running out the door and into a hallway. I had no idea where I was and fear was dominating my thoughts. I sprinted down the hallway and found a staircase. Ignoring the shouts to stop that were coming from behind me, I rushed down them and didn’t even pause before running again towards the scent of fresh air. Suddenly, arms wrapped around my waist and yanked me to a stop. I yelped out and began to struggle, adrenaline and fear coursing through my veins.

“Calm down,” I heard a voice whisper in my ear. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

I whimpered and continued to thrash in the stranger's arms. I knew it was the same man that had found me dying and who had found me in the bedroom based on his scent and the sound of his voice.

Of course, my kidnapper had to be the strongest werewolf alive. My flailing did nothing; the only reaction the stranger showed was a tightening of the arms around me. After a few more moments of this, I gave up and slumped in his arms.

"There we go," he whispered. He moved me so that he was carrying me bridal style and began to walk through the house with me still in his arms. I remained silent for a while and looked at my hands in my lap, but my curiosity quickly got the best of me.

Chapter 1 – Running

Running. It was nothing new for me. Others considered it a fun pastime, or maybe an evil forced upon them by their malevolent dictator, otherwise known as the gym teacher. However, to me, it was as much a part of my life as breathing. Running could calm me down from a horrible mood, or could help me to hunt for my food for the night. But at the moment, it was extending my life a little bit longer.

Growls, snarls, and yells were following me as I sprinted through the forest, dodging all the low-lying branches that threatened to snap at me. My paws were flying beneath me; the wind was whistling through my fur. Were it not for the loud noises the wolves behind me were making, I could almost enjoy the freedom running gave me. In light of the circumstances, though, it was understandable, I think, that I couldn't relax. In fact, I was scared out of my mind.

Contrary to popular belief, packs were not right up against each other. Nobody really liked rogues. Hell, I was one and even I hated them. Because of this, there was about a mile of no man's land in between all of the packs' territories. This is where the rogues could be found, and sometimes pack members when they were visiting other packs to see family, visit friends, or maybe arrange a treaty.

Even with this safe land to walk on, I had managed to stray off course. Dehydration and a growling stomach had caused me to follow my instincts and get to the closest water source. A river or lake meant water, something to soothe my thirst and find some prey to hunt. Being half-delirious with thirst and hunger had me completely ignoring the scent markers indicating that I was crossing pack boundaries. Which led me to where I was now: being chased by the very pack I had intruded upon. If I could tell them that my actions were purely accidental, I would in a heartbeat. However, they hadn't given me any time to shift to my human form and explain before snapping at me with sharp teeth and attempting to attack me. So I ran.

The snapping of twigs behind me brought me out of my reverie as I realized the sounds were getting closer to me. Somehow finding an extra burst of speed, I sprinted away from the angry pack that was hot on my heels. No man's land was close, and I'd be able to more easily get away once I crossed the border. Once I was far enough away from the pack's territory, they'd leave me alone and go home. It wasn't worth their time to hunt little old me down.

Unfortunately for me, I was incredibly clumsy. My lack of coordination and balance caused me to trip and tumble as soon as my front left paw caught on a stray rock. My entire body did several somersaults before I landed on the hard forest floor with a solid thud. I barely had any time to register the pain radiating from my back before the first wolf descended upon me.
The large wolf immediately picked me up by the scruff of my neck and, ignoring my whimpers and obvious show of submission to him, flung me against the nearest tree. I yelped out at the pain, but remained huddled on the ground, baring my neck and belly to him in an attempt to prove to him that I meant no harm. However, he seemed to take my submission as a ruse--either that or he just didn’t care. The wolf dove in and began to rip away bits of my flesh, muscles, and fur. My yelps now sounded like screams as I desperately tried to crawl away from him to no avail. My blood poured out against the ground, making the autumn leaves around a dark, sticky red. Finally, when I was about to pass out from the pain, I felt the wolf grab the scruff of my neck again with his teeth and drag me to some unknown destination. I understood, though, when I could smell the change of territory. He had dragged me back into no man’s land and, with a snort, he turned and left, his message to me clear enough without any words being said. And stay out.

The pain was brutal and everywhere. It caused me to shift back, a natural reaction to such extreme pain. I didn’t move at all for the fear that any sudden movements would increase my pain tenfold. This was usually the case when something like this happened.

Yes, unfortunately events such as the one that had recently transpired happened more often than not. Such was the life of a rogue.

One might ask why someone would want this life. The life of running, always running. The life of constant hunger pains. The life of always being parched. The life of knowing everyone hates you. The life of hating yourself.

Most rogues don’t choose this lifestyle. Many of them were kicked out of their packs for various reasons. Some were unfortunate enough to go mad after their mate died. A small percent willingly left their packs for one reason or another, but that wasn’t me. I was shoved into this Hell in a way that still gave me nightmares, in a way that still caused me to be wary around kind strangers. I was different now, cracked; I would never be the same person I used to be.

The pain wasn’t fading, but my consciousness was. I couldn’t handle it much longer and soon would be in the sweet darkness that seemed to embrace me all too often. But, right before I was gone, I felt another presence. In my last conscientious moments, I sniffed at the stranger. It was a male wolf. A male pack wolf. Great. Finally, the pain was gone as I welcome the darkness and passed out.

Adrian, who can't remember the last time he settled down, has been yanked out of the rogue life violently. While trying to adjust to pack life, he has to deal with the strange new feelings he has towards Alexander. But life isn't so simple. Evil and madness are afoot, and Adrian has to keep an eye out. Why? Because the very people who caused him to become a rogue are back.

Warning. There will be homosexuals and some violence in this story.

Rated PG-13 to M (but closer to PG-13)